Happiness
by wolfraven80
Summary: VaughnxChelsea He didn’t believe you could find happiness with other people. Sooner or later they always let you down. They got busy, or caught up in their own affairs. But Chelsea... Did he really have more spring in his step on Wednesdays and Thursdays?
1. I

**Happiness**

**I**

Leaning over the railing on the deck of the transport ship, staring out at the endless blue waves, Vaughn wondered if she was happy.

It had been months since he'd been back, and anything could have happened since then. Though always busy with the ranch, Chelsea somehow made time for the rest of the villagers and was well liked by all. She had probably moved on– she could have any man on the island. And as long as she was happy...

Vaughn bristled as one of the deck hands approached. "Hey there. You're looking surlier than usual." Vaughn grunted– which only elicited a laugh from the other man. "Cheer up. Next stop's the island of happiness after all." He walked off with a laugh.

Breathing deeply of the salty, sea air, Vaughn reached into his pocket and pulled out a crumpled red bandana. He raised it to his face and inhaled... and the scent of her skin filled his nostrils even now.

The island of happiness indeed.

He couldn't remember precisely what time of the year it had been when the crew had begun calling the island by that name, but he remembered how much it had irritated him...

**ooo**

As Vaughn stepped onto the walkway to board the transport ship, he had to quash the urge to whistle. His belly was full with a hot meal from the island's diner and his lungs full of cool, evening air. What more could a man want? And it hadn't hurt that Chelsea had just happened to drop in as he'd been having dinner... as was so often the case of late. That hadn't hurt at all.

"Well someone's got some spring in his step tonight." Vaughn halted there on the deck and turned to face the crewman. He spent enough time on this ship that the crew seemed to consider him an honorary member– and a dubious honour it was.

He hooked his thumbs into his belt and glowered from under the brim of his Stetson. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Oh nothing. Just that whenever we pick you up from this place you look almost... happy."

"Happy?" chimed in another of the men. "Vaughn?"

"Well... less grumpy anyway."

The second man laughed. "Suppose you're right. Got a girl on the island, Vaughn?"

Vaughn snorted. "I don't have time to settle down."

The first crewman laughed and slapped him on the back. "No one said anything about _that_. But a man don't have that kind of strut unless he's getting some."

"Shut up and mind your own damned business," Vaughn snapped.

"She got a sister?" said the second crewman with a laugh.

At this, Vaughn turned on his heel and marched away. He had to rise early and didn't have time for their asinine banter. Yet even as he headed below deck, one of them called out, "Guess from now on we'll be calling it the island of happiness, eh Vaughn?"

Damned sailors.

**ooo**

He spent the rest of that week brooding over what the crewmen had said. Chelsea was pleasant, it was true, but he didn't believe you could find happiness with other people. Sooner or later they always let you down. You got attached and they got busy, or caught up in their own affairs, or they just ran off like... Either way, you got hurt. There was no sense counting on other people.

But Chelsea was a nice girl and he didn't like the crewman talking about her that way. She wasn't like that. In fact she was... unusual. Even from the start...

**ooo**

He bristled as she hailed him in the animal shop. "What's up?"

"Do I need a reason to say hello to you?" she said, lips quirked into a smile. Even this early in the year, her skin was tanned from her long hours in the fields. A strand of her hair, peeking out from under the bandanna she wore to keep it back, had fallen into her face and he had to repress the sudden urge to reach over and brush it back behind her ear.

And she was still standing there, peering at him in apparent amusement. "Don't talk to me. You're a distraction."

She quirked a brow, her smile taking on a decidedly lopsided turn. "Oh, I'm a distraction now, am I?"

Amusement was not what he'd being going for. He had work to do. He didn't have time to... socialize.

"Well, while I'm being so distracting... I was hoping you'd try this."

She pushed a bottle into his hands and for a moment he stared at it, dumbfounded. "What is it?"

"Milk. From my ranch," she added as he continued to gape at her. "Try it."

"Fine."

"So? How is it?"

"Good," he replied.

Her smile was as bright as the summer sunshine. "Oh good. It's my first cow, you know so... But I'm glad. A 'good' from you is worth an 'excellent' from anyone else."

It was only later that he admitted to her that he had a soft spot for milk. It didn't fit his image, he knew (it smacked too much of the old joke about the cowboy who walks into a bar and orders milk instead of whiskey). But for a long time afterward, what he'd remembered the most was the warmth of her smile and that stray lock of hair.

**ooo**

After that it seemed like he was always running into her around town on the days he was on Sunny Island. He kept his hours as regular as possible– for the sake of efficiency of course... though if it made it easier for her to run into him then he wasn't about to complain.

So when the crewmen on the ship began to tease him, he did what he usually did: he ignored them. Chelsea was friendly. She got along with everyone on the island. He wasn't about to read anything into it.

At least not until the night of the fireworks festival...

**ooo**

The evening breeze was cool against his face as he stood in the meadow, thumbs hooked into his belt and peering around at the assembled townsfolk. _It's like Noah's ark around here._

Denny was off to one side with the pop idol– telling a fishing story, judging by the way he waved his arm as if casting a line. Julia was chatting amiably with Taro's grandson, and the cooking fellow– Pierre?– was standing nearby alongside Nathalie.

He craned his neck. It wasn't exactly that he was looking for anyone... he was just curious. After all, it wouldn't be a proper festival without the one who was responsible for the entire island's financial prosperity. His heart began to race when he spotted Chelsea crossing the bridge to the meadow, a blanket slung over her arm.

She paused to say hello to those who greeted her, but all the while she was scanning the meadow. Her face lit up and she waved and Vaughn had to resist the urge to glance over his shoulder and check if someone was standing behind him. She was walking towards him.

"Vaughn," she said, smiling. "I wasn't sure you'd attend."

He shrugged. "I finished my work for the day and someone mentioned the show so..."

"In that case... Do you want to find a patch of grass and we can watch the show together?"

He cleared his throat. All at once it seemed uncomfortably warm. "I've seen fireworks before," he said with a grunt. But then he tipped his hat, "But if you insist, I'll watch them with you." And then after she agreed, "Okay. I don't want to though."

Her lips quirked. "Methinks the gentleman doth protest too much."

"Huh?"

"Never mind. Come on," she said snagging his arm and dragging him to an open patch of grass. She spread out the blanket she'd brought and together they sat down.

The sky was cloudless and as full of stars as anyone could hope for. As they sat together in silence, waiting for the show to start, she gazed up at the sky, a tiny smile flitting onto her face. He wondered what the sky looked like where she'd grown up. They said city lights drowned out the stars. A cool breeze teased at her hair, sending wisps of it into her face and Vaughn felt warm. It was a relief when the fireworks display finally started.

The chirrup of crickets was drowned by the clap of the fireworks bursting to life, setting the sky alight. Bursts of colour shattered in the sky above them– scarlet, mauve, emerald– as vivid as the hues of summer flowers.

There were oohs and ahhs from the crowd. He started as one particularly loud bang caught him off guard and his hand brushed up against hers. He froze. His breath caught in his throat as Chelsea's fingers interlaced with his.

But then the sky exploded once more with colour in a grand finale. "They're beautiful," he whispered.

"Yeah," she murmured, eyes fixed above.

As the echoes of the final bangs faded away, people around them began getting up to leave, chattering merrily, smiles on their faces.

"I guess it's time to get going then,"Chelsea said, not quite meeting his eyes as she got to her feet.

"Yeah," he said. And then, as she was rolling up the blanket, "It was actually pretty nice to watch the fireworks with you."

The smile on her face was brighter than all the fireworks together.

**ooo**

It had nagged at him. Happiness. Did he really have more spring in his step on Wednesdays and Thursdays? During the intermittent days after the fireworks show he'd been able to do nothing but brood. He'd had to wait all week to do anything and it had been a week filled with disasters: a horse that had picked up a nail in its hoof during offloading, a cow that had gotten loose during transport, miscounted sheep, and stormy seas. By the time he'd gotten to Wednesday, there hadn't been much spring left in his step, island of happiness or no.

They'd arrived late on the island– another disaster to wreak havoc on his timetable and he hadn't seen Chelsea all day. By the time he finished dinner without seeing hide nor hair of her all day, he finally decided to ask the diner's owner.

"You seen Chelsea, by any chance?"

"She was just down at the beach, man." Vaughn spun to see that fisherman– Denny– walking up to the counter to order. Half the island ate here in the evening.

"Thanks," Vaughn said, tipping his hat and stuffing his hands into his pockets.

His boots scuffed along the worn flagstone road as he passed. It would have been quaint had some of the flagstones not been loose or uneven. Yet another thing in this rag-tag community that needed to be fixed. Chelsea was always putting up money for public projects so it wouldn't surprise him if she eventually pushed for some better roads.

He snorted. Everything here lead back to her somehow.

When he finally arrived at the beach and saw no one at all, he thought perhaps he'd missed her. He'd have to wait till tomorrow then; it would be strange to drop by the ranch this late, especially when he'd only been there once before, on the day he'd first come to the island.

Just out of reach of the lapping waves, Vaughn strolled along the shoreline, silvered by moonlight. He took a deep breath of salty air and let the lull of the waves wash over his thoughts. He had always loved the outdoors, and he had grown to love the sea as well. Calm summer evenings like this were as close as a man could get to paradise. If only he could have settled matters with–

Chelsea.

She started as he approached, dropping the fishing pole gripped in her hands. "Vaughn... you startled me."

"Sorry," he murmured.

"I thought you weren't here today," she said.

"We got in late. Made my schedule pretty hectic."

"Oh."

After a moment she looked as if she were about to say something but then broke off and they remained in silence, Chelsea sitting on the beach at a spot where the shore dropped off steeply, and he, standing over her.

How to begin. He cleared his throat. "I–" She looked up at him. He cleared his throat once more. "Didn't know you could fish. It's not too often you meet a woman who knows how to handle a pole."

It took him a moment– as she bit her lip in a not-quite-successful attempt to stifle a laugh– to replay what he'd just said and figure out what had gone wrong. He could feel his face growing rather warm as he did. "A fishing pole," he amended, and sat down next to her.

"I used to go camping with my family when I was younger," she said, looking out over the sea. "My dad taught me to fish."

"Catch anything?"

"Not tonight. Nothing's biting."

"That's life, I guess."

"I don't mind. Really, I do it because it gives me a chance to think."

He shifted. "About what?"

"Anything. The ranch. New recipes to try out. Chickens. People..."

"People, huh?"

"Yes." He caught her darting a glance in his direction and all at once he wanted to pull that bandanna off so he could tangle his fingers in her hair.

He clenched his hands in his lap and tried not to think of the way the moonlight made her skin as pale as porcelain. "Why me?" he said all at once.

"What?"

"You could've invited anyone to see the fireworks. There are half a dozen guys on this island who'd have loved to go with you. So why me?"

She was looking out at the water again as she spoke. "Did you know you can hum snails out of their shells?"

"Huh?"

"If you hold a snail up near you face and hum, they sense the vibrations and slowly they'll poke their heads out of their shells. If you do it just right."

"I didn't know that."

"It's a trick I learned as a kid. They have this really tough shell because without it, they're vulnerable– anything could hurt them. But if you hum just right, just gently enough, they crawl out and you can see them as they are. I always liked to call them out, just... to see them."

"Chelsea..."

"I thought that maybe it might... work the same way with people."

And then he kissed her.

Her lips tasted of sea salt.

As they parted, he was afraid that she'd want to talk about it– about them– but she only smiled and leaned her head against his shoulder. For a long while, they sat together in silence as the fish continued to not bite.


	2. II

**II**

Vaughn sighed as he inspected the hoof of one of Mirabelle's sheep. More footrot. He supposed it was to be expected with all the moisture in the soil around here, but it was damned inconvenient. Reaching for the paring shears in his tool box, he began tending to the animal. Tonight couldn't come fast enough. Dinner at Chelsea's. The thought alone made him jittery.

Taking a deep breath, Vaughn banished thoughts of the ranch: he needed to keep his hands steady to do a good job.

He was muddy and stiff when he finally headed into the shop to speak to Mirabelle and he was more than a little irritated when he found not her, but Julia behind the counter. "Where's Mirabelle?"

"Mom just stepped out for a few minutes. Did you need something, Vaughn?"

"I finished checking your sheep. Paired off all the footrot but you're gonna have to keep a close eye on them, specially if we get as much rain this fall as we did last."

"All right. Thanks for taking such good care of them."

"It's my job." He turned to leave but stopped as she hailed him again.

"Vaughn."

"You need something else?"

"I was just wondering if you could give this to Chelsea," Julia said, holding out a package wrapped in brown paper. "I was going to give it to her when she dropped in, but she hasn't been by in a couple of days. She mentioned last week you two were having dinner tonight so..."

"Fine," he said. He took the package without looking into Julia's smiling face. Any minute now she was going to say something about Chelsea– about him and Chelsea– and he just wanted to get out of here before it could happen.

"You know," she began slowly and Vaughn braced himself. _Damn. Here it comes._ "I have to admit I was bit... worried when Chelsea told me you two you were seeing each other, but you know what she said to me?" He raised an eyebrow but didn't reply. "She said... you were like a dog."

"A– a dog?"

"That was my reaction too," Julia went on with a laugh. "But she said 'You know how some really big dogs will make a fuss if you come near their homes– growl and bare their teeth– just to ward you off, but then when they're at home with their families, they're gentle and affectionate. It's like that.'"

"Chelsea said that?"

"She did," Julia replied and he could not help but stare at her. She was beaming. "Chelsea works so hard and we all depend on her ranch... it's nice to see her so happy."

"Uh..." He cleared his throat and tucked the package under his arm.

"I just wanted to tell you that. That's all."

"Well... uh... thanks," he said and then tipped his hat and strode out of the shop as quickly as he could.

**ooo**

They talked about the ranch and about his work over dinner– a lovely grilled mushroom dish; he was pleasantly surprised. He insisted on helping her wash the dishes and by the time that was done it was already dark.

"Do you want to get some air?" she asked him, as he set the last plate in the dish rack.

"All right."

He followed her out onto the porch and watched as she leaned over the railing and took a deep breath. The railing creaked as he, too, leaned against it, his shoulder brushing against hers, so that a thrill shot up his spine. Just being close to her set his nerves on fire. When he cast her a sideways glance, he could swear her cheeks were flushed.

Crickets chirped all around and an owl hooted now and then, but for a while they were silent. And he liked it that way. Chelsea's gaze was fixed on the sky and she seemed quite content with their silence. It was never like that with other people. They chattered away rather than deal with an awkward quiet and his taciturn nature seemed to unsettle them. But with Chelsea it was all right.

He glanced at her when she did finally speak.

"I never get tired of looking at the night sky out here. It's amazing. I could never see this many stars back home."

He nodded, though he'd never known anything different. "So what was it like living in the city?"

"Noisy," she said. "Crowded. Rushed. A lot of my friends loved it. For them it wasn't stressful, it was exciting."

"Wasn't for you, though?"

She shook her head, still looking out at the countryside. "No. Out here it's just... it's hard work, but I can actually see the result. I can grow something and hold it in my hands. It means so much more that way."

"Yeah," he said, shifting his weight a little against the railing. "I couldn't imagine living in the city."

"You've always lived out here, haven't you?"

"Pretty much. I grew up taking care of livestock."

"You don't talk about your family much," she said. From the corner of his eye he could see her looking at him.

"Nope." She said nothing, and after a few moments, relieved that she wasn't about to press him, he added, "Never knew 'em. I grew up on a ranch with a foster family. A couple named Dan and Emily, but they argued. A lot. And finally Dan up and left."

"Oh. I'm sorry," she said.

"Not your fault." He straightened. "I almost forgot... Hold on a sec." Before she could ask, he headed back into the house to fetch the package Julia had given him. He had stored it away with his tools and not thought about it until now. "Here," he said handing it over. "Julia asked me to give this to you."

"It must me the new shears I ordered," Chelsea said, as she unwrapped the package. And indeed it was a pair of sheers.

"You know, while I was there..." Vaughn began, leaning back against one of the porch's posts.

Chelsea looked up from her shears. "Hmm?"

"Julia said you told her I was like a dog."

"That is _not_ what I said!"

A smile quirked his lips; she was turning a lovely shade of scarlet. He hooked his arm around her shoulders and pulled her closer. "I know," he said and kissed the top of her head.

She chuckled and her breath was warm against his neck. "Well you do have that pack of strays you hang out with."

"So now I'm a big _stray_ dog, am I?" he said, pulling back a bit to look into her face.

"Yes. Exactly."

And what else could he do then but kiss her?

**ooo**

At the sound of the door, Vaughn turned and his heart surged as Chelsea walked into the animal shop. "You're in here pretty early," he said.

"It looked like it might rain so I wanted to get my errands done beforehand," Chelsea replied. And then, turning to Mirabelle, who was standing behind the counter, "Morning, Mirabelle."

"Good morning, Chelsea. Did you need something today?"

"Chicken feed actually."

"I'll have to go to the back to get some. Hold on a few minutes, okay?"

Chelsea's lips were quirked but she managed a very neutral, "Oh. Sure. No problem."

Vaughn's brows furrowed. "She's got some right behind the counter."

"I figured." Chelsea raised an eyebrow as she glanced at him. "I guess she wanted to give us some space."

Vaughn snorted. "Subtle."

Chelsea shrugged. "Oh well. I'm just happy to see you. Though when I came in I was expecting you to tell me to leave you alone what with my being so distracting and all."

A smile tugged at his lips."You _are_ distracting," Vaughn said with a sniff. "When I'm away, I can't seem to think of anything else. Makes it hard to do my work."

She chuckled and he delighted in the way her cheeks flushed. "There's an easy solution to that, you know."

"Yeah?"

"Just stop being away so much."

And before he could reply, she kissed him and he was lost in the softness of her lips, her scent, her taste.

They broke apart as they heard the doorknob turn, and spun around as Julia came in. "Hi there, Chelsea. I hope I wasn't interrupting," she added with a laugh.

"Nope," he and Chelsea replied in unison and then smiled as they caught each other's glaces.

"Uh-huh," Julia said, just a touch incredulous. "So what can I do for you today? And where's mom?"

"Oh... I came in for some chicken feed and she went into the storeroom to get it."

"But there's some right behind the counter," Julia said as she pulled out a sack of feed.

"What do you know," Chelsea said and then, glancing at Vaughn, she winked.

**ooo**

As the rain beat a staccato rhythm on the front porch roof, Vaughn rapped on the door for the third time. Granted, it was early on this not so fine Wednesday morning, but Chelsea normally rose with the sun like any good rancher.

"Hey there," he said as the door opened a crack and Chelsea poked her head out.

"Vaughn... I wasn't expecting you."

"Mirabelle mentioned that you weren't feeling too well so I thought I'd drop by. See if you could use a hand."

"It's only a cold," she said, smiling. And then, stepping behind the door, she pulled it open so he could come in. It was only as he stepped inside and she shut the door behind him that he understood her unusually circumspect greeting: she was wearing nothing but a nightshirt and slippers.

"I overslept," she explained, looking a little flushed.

"Sorry," he said, very carefully keeping his eyes on her face and trying not to notice how the nightshirt clung to her curves. "You know, though... there's no one else out there to see you."

She chuckled. "I suppose you're right. It's different in the city; there's always someone around."

"Yeah."

"I was just having breakfast. Then I need to check on my–"

He shifted from foot to foot as she began to cough. He was used to being around sick animals, but people were another matter entirely.

"Sorry," she croaked.

Her cheeks were still flushed and she was rubbing at her arms as if she were chilled. With two long strides Vaughn closed the gap between them and pressed his hand to her forehead. "You're running a temperature. You should go back to bed."

"But I need to–"

"I'll take care of your livestock. Don't overdo it. You're working yourself too hard."

"But... don't you have other work to do?"

"I've got time. Don't worry, I'll give you a discount," he added with a wink and then leaned in to place a kiss on her warm forehead.

"Thank you," she whispered and somehow he didn't mind heading back out into the rain so much.

He flicked the rain off his Stetson once he finally reached the barn. It took him a few minutes to locate the tools he'd need and then he set to work tending her animals. It was clear to see that Chelsea took good care of them. They were all in good health and were calm as he moved from stall to stall.

It was amazing that she managed so well what with everything she'd taken on. Most ranches were _not_ one-person operations; they usually employed a large number of farm hands or were a family affair. It was no wonder Chelsea got run down doing all this herself. And yet the ranch was thriving, as was the island itself thanks to her efforts.

_Now just think of what she could do with a business partner._

He toyed with the idea as he forked fodder into the feeders. It went against the grain of everything he'd grown up believing. He'd long ago decided that the only way to run a successful business was to do it alone; you were responsible for yourself and the mistakes were yours and yours alone. You couldn't count on other people to make the right decisions anyway and when you did count on them they were as apt to up and leave as anything else. And yet...

The barn could easily be built on to in order to provide shelter for a larger herd, and she had plenty of field for growing fodder. With some more animals and an extra pair of hands to take care of things, the ranch could become a real cash cow... so to speak.

But it was as he was milking one of the cows and the image of Chelsea in that nightshirt hovered before his mind's eye– the thin fabric clinging to her, hinting at all her dips and curves– that it dawned on him that it wasn't really her business partner that he wanted to be.

He paused in his work and sat back, drawing in a long, deep breath. "Damn. This is getting complicated." The cow lowed and he patted her flank. "Don't worry, girl. Nothing to do with you."

It was still raining when he finished, and he heaved a sigh, knowing he still had a full day's work ahead of him. He was soaked by the time he got back to her house. He knocked once and then let himself in.

All was quiet.

Stepping in cautiously so as not to wake her in case she was asleep, he spent an awkward moment trying to figure out the etiquette for such a situation. It was one thing to have dinner with a girl and to kiss her on the porch. It was quite another to march right into her bedroom even with the most honourable of intentions– wasn't it?

He had decided he should just leave when he thought he heard a rustling sound from the living room. He poked his head in and there was Chelsea, sound asleep, curled beneath a blanket on the couch.

For a moment he hung there in the doorway, watching her sleep and then, with a smile, he turned and headed back out into the rain.

**ooo**

But then there had been the argument. He couldn't even remember exactly what it had been about except that it revolved around an improvement she'd been planning for the ranch– though heaven knows she was always improving the ranch.

Standing there in the barn, cows lowing all around them, he could hear the blood thrumming in his ears as she scowled at him. "I'm telling you," he said, voice like the blade of a scythe, "crops aren't as reliable as livestock. One bad storm and you're wiped out for the season."

She crossed her arms over her chest and shook her head. "Even so..."

"You take good care of your livestock and you're set. Better investment by a longshot."

"You're making it sound too easy," she snapped. "Livestock is lot of work and a larger investment at the get go."

"I've been handling animals since I was a kid. I know what I'm talking about. And if you didn't want my advice you shouldn't have asked for it."

Her hands were balled at her sides. "I didn't know asking for your opinion meant I had to agree with you."

"Fine." He spun on his heel. "If you don't need me I'll damn well just go." He stalked off, regretful only that there wasn't a door for him to slam on his way out.

He was halfway to the beach before he realized those were the very words Dan had said the last time he'd seen him.

**ooo**

Winter was right around the corner. It was as he spent his days away from the island mulling over what he'd said to– what she'd shouted at– Chelsea, that he got the offer. Work was never a bad thing, especially during lean seasons, but...

"But I might be away a long while."

Chelsea didn't meet his eyes as she whispered. "How long?"

"A season at the least but... it could be longer."

He fidgeted with his Stetson, which he had set down on the table in her tiny kitchen where they'd sat down to talk. She had been smiling then. Glad to see him, she'd poured him a glass of milk and taken a seat at his request, heedless. He'd downed the milk before beginning. It was probably the last time she'd offer him milk from her ranch.

"If this is about the other week..." she began. "We had a fight, Vaughn. You don't have to–"

He shook his head. "It's not about that." She still wasn't looking at him. That made it easier to go on. "It's an opportunity. You know how hard it is to get by in the winter. And this way I _won't_ be a burden on anyone."

"Vaughn..." She was biting her lip, and for once it wasn't to restrain laughter.

What were you supposed to do when a girl cried? Hold her? Tell her it would be all right? But what if you were the one who was making her cry?

Wiping her eyes, Chelsea looked up at him then. His chest clenched.

"You'll call, won't you?"

"Huh?"

"On the phone?" she said, motioning towards the old, black phone in the corner.

"I– If you want me to."

"Of course I want you to. Were you expecting me to– " She bit her lip for a moment and began again. "Were you expecting me to break up with you?"

"Long distance isn't easy."

"I'm not going anywhere. The ranch'll still be here and I'll still be running it when you get back." She stood, rubbing her arms as if she were cold. "I'm so busy all the time, it won't seem like that long." Even he could see that her smiled was forced.

He rose and came to stand before her. What she was waiting for was still a mystery to him. She'd managed to hum him out of his shell– surely her curiosity must be sated. She could have anyone. So why in the world would she want him?

"Vaughn?"

"Hmm?" She was so beautiful, her auburn hair, wild beneath that red bandana she wore as a kerchief...

"You're staring." The colour that rose in her cheeks delighted him.

Reaching out, he pulled the bandanna off her head... and tangled his fingers in her hair. "You're worth staring at."

When he kissed her, her lips tasted salty. But this time he knew it wasn't the sea he was tasting.


	3. III

**III**

"Hello?"

"Chelsea?"

"Vaughn? It's hard to hear you."

"Phone networks round these parts aren't too good."

"How are you? How's the job?"

"Good."

"_Vaughn_." Even over the phone he could recognise that tone.

"It's hard work. But it's not bad. Better than just getting by."

"I'm glad you're doing okay."

The were both silent for a moment and even though they were miles apart, Vaughn broke into a sweat. He'd never been very good over the phone. "So... uh... How's the ranch?"

"Quiet. Just me and the animals. I'd love to have a greenhouse by next winter."

He restrained the urge to say something about the worth of livestock over crops. "You've always got another project in mind, don't you?"

"For now. I'm putting everything I make back into the ranch, but eventually I won't need to anymore. It'll get easier."

"I suppose."

"What else.... Oh! I ran into Mark at the animal shop. One of his cows is ill."

"He should take better care of them."

"He's new at this."

Vaughn sniffed. "So were you not long ago and you did a better job of things."

"I wish I could see your face. I can't tell if you're being serious or not."

He smiled. "I am. You're doing pretty well... for a city girl."

She laughed and the sound made him giddy. "Vaughn?"

"Hmm?"

He spun as someone tapped him on the shoulder. One of the other animal handlers.

"I–" Chelsea began.

"Wait your damn turn." The other man backed off as Vaughn glowered at him. "Sorry," he said into the receiver. "It's the only phone here."

"I should let you go then."

"Yeah. Guess so."

"You'll call again?"

"Sure. Same time."

"Okay." A pause. "I miss you."

"Me too."

**ooo**

Vaughn blew on fingers still numbed with cold and tried for a second time to dial her number. His hands ached from hours spent tending animals in cool barns. For a second time, he misdialled and cursed under his breath. He rubbed his hands together and then shoved the, under his arms, cursing the blustering weather. All day as he'd worked, visions of Chelsea's ranch had danced before his mind's eye. If he were on the island instead of here, he could be warm. She would offer him cup of hot milk and curl up close to him so he could feel the warmth seeping from her, and together like that they would listen to the wind howling at the window.

Giving himself a shake, Vaughn reached once more for his coins, fed them to the phone, and then dialled her number.

"Hello?"

"Hey. You get hit with that storm yesterday?"

"We did," she replied. "I could barely get the front door open. I'm glad you called. I was worried."

"We headed for port before the worst of the weather hit. It was no big deal. I'm not on the transport nearly as much as before."

"I'm glad. I just... get nervous. After what happened..."

"Yeah, I don't blame you." He supposed if he'd been shipwrecked he'd be nervous about storms too. He just thanked his lucky stars that she'd gotten out unscathed. It was strange to think that he could have lost her before ever having met her. "How is everything?"

"We're still shovelling. Gannon came by to help. It's hard to believe it can be so hot all summer and then turn like this."

"Yeah. The weather systems round here are interesting all right." The line was starting to crackle. Again. It was happening more and more often of late.

"What... you... animals?"

"I'm getting a lot of static."

"What?" I can hardly..."

"Static," he said loudly.

"Here too."

"Better go."

"Okay."

And that was that.

**ooo**

"What?" I can barely hear you?"

"How are you?" he all but shouted into the phone.

"Good. There was a festival today in the meadow."

"Yeah?" he said loudly.

"We made snowmen. It was fun. I wish you'd been there. We could've made one and given him your hat."

"I'm partial to this hat, you know."

"What? You're break–" More static...

Dammit. Not again. "It's getting hard to hear you."

"–ight, Vau–"

"Goodnight."

"I love y–"

And the line was dead.

**ooo**

"Who is it that you're always talking to anyway?" Cheryl asked as they headed into the lodgings.

"Huh?"

"On the phone. Chelsea? You're spending a fortune on phone calls. Girlfriend?"

"Yeah."

Cheryl dusted off her jeans and then pulled off her hat, pausing a moment to pick hay out of her long chestnut hair, much as Chelsea often had when he had dropped by right as she'd finished her chores. "Good luck with that," Cheryl said. "I've tried the long distance thing and it never works. Especially with the phones around here being what they are."

"Mind your own business," he said, glowering from under his Stetson.

She laughed. "A henpecked cowboy– who'd have thought? Isn't it time for you to make your call?"

He shoved his hands into his pockets and stalked off. Much to his annoyance, she was right: it was time to call Chelsea. Usually she picked up within a few rings, but tonight by the time he'd counted the seventh ring he began to think perhaps she was out later than usual. It was on the eight ring that she picked up.

"Hello?" Her voice was thick with sleep.

"Did I wake you up? Sorry 'bout that."

"No, it's all right. I'm glad I got to the phone in time. I miss you..."

"I miss you too. Rough day?"

"Sort of."

"Sort of?" he repeated.

"I was..."

"Spit it out."

"I did some work in the mines."

"_Chelsea_," he chided. Once before he'd happened upon her on her way back from the mines. She'd been covered in dust, her hands blistered, her feet dragging as if they were a great weight. She'd been so startled when she looked up and saw him there that she'd nearly tripped and had had to catch herself on him. Even now he remembered the thrill at the touch of her skin.

"You all right?" he had asked her that day.

"Yes. Sorry," she'd said, straightening.

"Don't overdo it," he'd said. She'd smiled wanly and nodded.

His chest clenched at the thought of her like that now, dust covered and bone-weary.

"I thought you were gonna to take it easy." In spite of his best efforts there was an edge to his tone.

"I know but... you know what it's like at this time of year. Things are tight and I could use the income."

"Income's not gonna do you any good if you get yourself killed down there."

"It's not that bad. Really."

"If I were there–"

"But you're not." He could not but hear the quaver in her voice. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "I'm just tired. I–"

"Hey Vaughn! Tell Chelsea I said 'hi,'" Cheryl called out as she walked by the phone, a smirk on her lips.

"Who was that?" Chelsea asked, suspicion plain in her voice, Vaughn realized.

"Someone who should mind her own damn business," he grumbled.

"What do you mean?"

He bristled. "I mean I catch a lot of flak from the others for being on the phone so much."

"Well I'm sorry I embarrass you."

"You know I don't care what other people think."

"But you do," she said.

"No. I don't. And I'd rather be talking to you anyway. At least when you're being reasonable."

"I told you, the mine's not that bad and I need the money for the ranch."

He snorted. "It's not all about money."

"You're one to talk."

"You're risking your life."

"And you left!"

He fell silent, listening to the muffled sound of her crying through the receiver. "I'm sorry," she managed after a minute or so. "I'm just tired. Can we talk about this another time?"

"Yeah. You get your rest. Goodnight."

"Goodnight."

He slammed the receiver down.

"Damn."

**ooo**

"So I told Mark about the shipping arrangements I have with Taro's family."

Vaughn gritted his teeth as Chelsea continued to talk about the upstart rancher. He'd met him once, briefly, and not been much impressed– just a pale, skinny city boy who didn't know a horse's hoof from its hocks.

"Why are you helping out the competition?" he growled, rubbing at his thigh where a temperamental horse had caught him will a well-placed kick that morning.

"I don't see it that way at all," Chelsea said. How could she be so calm about it? These other ranchers coming to the island, stepping onto her turf... "If the island can develop a reputation for high quality produce it'll help all of us. So the more ranchers the better."

He grunted. That slick city boy waltzing over to Chelsea's ranch with a convenient excuse, taking advantage of her good nature... "Just watch yourself. You don't know anything about him."

"He's harmless, Vaughn. He just wanted to get away from the city. Like I did."

He straightened and winced as something in his back protested. Dammit all. "I'm glad you two have so much in common."

"What's that supposed to mean exactly?"

"Nothing. I had a rough day."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"No," he said, more sharply than he'd meant to. Dammit. Nothing was going right today. "I just wanna hit the sack. I shouldn't have called tonight."

"Vaughn..." The hurt in her voice hit him worse than the horse had. He was screwing this up. He knew he would. He should've broken it off when he'd left the island and saved her the trouble. Gripping the phone receiver until his knuckles were white, he tried to figure out the right thing to say, the words that would make everything better. It was hard enough in person, but over the phone...

"Go to bed," she told him before he could think of what to say. "You'll feel better tomorrow."

"Chelsea..."

"I love you."

"Love you too."

But even as he hung up, he was replaying the call in his mind. He hated how much he sounded just like Dan.

**ooo**

"It's been awfully cold, hasn't it?"

"Yeah," he replied. His bones ached with it.

"How've you been doing?"

"It's a bit rough at this time of year. The animals get restless since they don't get out as much and the cold is a pain."

"Yeah. I'm still not used to it. Not really. I never spent so much time outdoors before I came to the island."

"Yeah."

"At least you'll be back in the spring."

He took a deep breath. "Actually..."

"Actually what? You're not really going to stay on there?"

"They want to keep me on longer and I was thinking it might not be a bad idea."

She was silent for a long moment and then, "How much longer?"

"I don't know."

"I thought this was just about getting through winter."

"It's good, steady work."

"But..."

"My usual work? It's not a guaranteed thing. At least with this I can count on steady wages. If I don't have work I don't have anything else to fall back on."

"You have me."

"I can't do that," he said.

"Would it really be so terrible to have to depend on someone else for once?"

Even though she couldn't see him, Vaughn found himself shaking his head. He'd been supporting himself since he'd turned sixteen. You couldn't expect other people to carry you. "It just doesn't work that way."

"We'd be okay, you know. I can get some more animals and you could help with them. The ranch is doing really well. It would work. And you could be _here_. At least... if that's what you want."

What he wanted? He wanted for her to be happy. But he couldn't remember the last time she'd laughed. These past months, all he seemed to bring her was heartache. He should never have kissed her. Even then he'd known he would screw it up somehow like his foster parents had. He didn't want to do that to her. And Chelsea was... she was always happy, cheerful, filled with energy and enthusiasm– for life, for the ranch... He didn't want to be the one to change that.

"Vaughn?"

"Didn't you say there was a festival tonight?"

"I– No, I– I mean there is one but... it's for couples."

"Maybe you should go with someone."

"What do you mean?"

"You could go with that rancher guy– Mark. Or Denny. Or–"

"Stop it. Vaughn, you're the only one I want to go with."

"Well maybe you shouldn't. Maybe you should just forget about me."

There was a sort of choked sound over the phone. His hand was clammy around the receiver.

"Are you... breaking up with me?"

He took a deep breath. "I just don't think you should wait for me anymore."

"Don't do this. Not over the phone."

"I don't want to be the one who mucks up your life," he said.

"That's ridiculous. You're making it sound like it's for my own good."

"It is," he snapped. She didn't know what it was like. It didn't matter how much people loved each other, how happy they used to be; they could still end up hating each other, tearing each other apart.

"I think I'm old enough to decide what's in my best interest. I'm not a child you have to protect." A pause. "Is there someone else?"

"No." He stiffened, gripping the phone until his hand ached. "You think I'd two-time on you and then make up an excuse? Is that it?"

"I don't know what to think– except that you're dumping me _over the phone_." Her voice broke at the end. He'd made her cry again. But it was better this way. She would get over it. She would get over it and find someone who wouldn't make her cry, someone who'd make her happy, who'd love the way her lips quirked into a smile, and how she became flushed when she was nervous, and the way her russet hair would fall in strands into her face— someone who would love all these things more than he did. Someone who wouldn't hurt her.

"I'm sorry." His voice was gruff even to his own ears. He was doing the right thing. This was no way to carry on. She needed... someone else.

"Vaughn..."

"It's for the best. This... just isn't working."

He could hear the sound of her breathing but she said nothing. He was going to have to be the one to hang up.

For a moment he tried to come up with something to day, Surely there must be words for such occasions. But none came so finally all he said was "Goodbye."

And then, for the last time, he hung up.


	4. IV

**IV**

Vaughn's nose wrinkled as the scents of beer and livestock wafted to his nostrils. It always smelled of cow and horse in the common room, but on New Year's Eve, it was tinged with the tang of cheap beer as the workers guzzled it down. Slumped in a chair in the far corner, he scowled at the room full of drunken fools. He should've stayed in his quarters.

The handful of women workers had found beaus for the evening and a few of the men had invited women from town. The rest sat together at tables and drank their way into the new year.

"Having fun, Shawn?" slurred one of the others as he stumbled by.

"It's Vaughn."

"Yeah, it is fun," he replied and slapped him on the back. Vaughn glowered at him, but it seemed to have little effect– which he supposed was to be expected since his coworker probably couldn't see straight anyway. "Why didn't you bring a girl? We need more girls."

It was a relief when he ambled along. With a sigh, Vaughn pulled his Stetson down over his eyes. If they thought he'd nodded off maybe they'd leave him alone.

What was it like right now on Sunny Island? He'd never attended the New Year festivities. Chelsea had told him they had buckwheat noodles on New Year's Eve and rice cakes the next day, all prepared in the meadow where the townspeople gathered together. There would be laughter and singing, and Chelsea... he wondered if she would kiss anyone at midnight.

The handful of workers who weren't too sloshed to tell the time began counting down the remaining seconds of the year. Cheers and a chorus of 'auld lang syne' followed and all he could think about was the taste of her lips.

**ooo**

"Are you happy now?"

Vaughn stiffened. Eating in the mess hall was always more trouble than it was worth."What?" he said, looking up from his dinner.

"Are you happy with the mess you've made of it?"

_No. I'm not._

He peered at the other man from under the brim of his hat. "What are you talking about?"

"The southeast barn. You were supposed to do rounds there this evening."

Vaughn's shoulders slumped. Work. This was about work, not... Chelsea. "Wasn't me on tonight. It was Darren. Take it up with him."

"I'll take it out of his hide is what I'll do." And then he stalked off.

Heaving a sigh, Vaughn prodded the remains of the fish and rice on his plate. It was spring. What had she planted this year? Had the weather been good? How had she fared through the last weeks of winter? He would never know.

He set down his utensils and reached for his glass of milk and downed it in one long gulp.

"Good stuff, huh?"

"Yeah," he replied without glancing at his coworker as the other man joined him at the table.

"It's local too."

"Yeah?"

"Yup, from an island not too far off. Sunny Island." Vaughn straightened and stared. "There's some new ranch there– run by a girl, too. You used to travel around. Ever been to Sunny Island?"

"Yeah," Vaughn murmured. "A few times."

"Milk's harder to get lately, though, for some reason."

"What do you mean?"

His coworker shrugged. "There's just been less coming off of the island. I've been taking care of supplies around here, you know, and I've had to look into stocking up from other sources. Maybe that girl's having trouble with ranch," he added with a shrug. "Happens a lot with single-person operations. They can't always keep up."

Vaughn stood so quickly he almost knocked over his chair. "I've gotta go."

_Are you happy now?_ Happy. People always talked about happiness like it was something tangible, something you could keep in a jar and show off to your neighbours. He'd been content before going to the island. He'd had work. He'd wanted better work, surer income, but everything had been fine then, on a even keel, predictable, safe. And then Chelsea has waltzed into his life and now... She'd had the nerve to call him out– hum to him and silly as a snail, he'd stuck his head out.

And he'd been happy.

Her laugh, her smile, the way she just... _talked_ to him, like what he had to say mattered, like he mattered... and the way they didn't always have to talk. Sitting with her under an open sky, staring up at the Milky Way, those silences to him had been more than contentment, more than getting by. He had been happy.

And now... now...

_Are you happy now?_

No. But he had been. For a little while, he had.

"Vaughn?" As he'd expected Thompson, his boss, was still in his office, sorting through paperwork that never seemed to get done during the day. "Is there a problem?"

"Yeah, I..." He hadn't planned this, hadn't thought about what to say. "I need to go."

His boss titled his head and peered at him, brows creased. "Go where?"

"I need to leave. On the next transport."

Thompson stared at him a moment and shook his head. "I didn't think you had a sense of humour, Vaughn. So what's this really about?"

"I'm being serious. I've got some personal business to take care of."

"You can't just leave without giving some sort of advance notice."

"Then I quit." And with that he turned and left before his boss could even think to reply. He didn't stop until he'd gotten to his room and packed his bag– he didn't have much anyway. His good sense was screaming at him that this was stupid. Impulsive. Futile! Giving up a steady job, for what? Chelsea would surely have moved on with her life. She probably didn't want to see him again after... everything... But...

By dawn he was on the transport.

**ooo**

As the sun sank into the western sea, Vaughn turned his back and looked to the east where the sky was a solid mass of black. They were late. Engine trouble. Of course. Hours of delay, hours during which he could do nothing but lean on the railing of the ship and brood. What would he say to her? That he was sorry? That he'd made a mistake? Whatever her answer was, he needed to know she was all right, that whatever had changed wasn't his fault. His life was his own to mess up, but if he'd mucked up hers... He needed to see her. A phone call wouldn't do it. He needed to see the look on her face, to know whether she was really all right, whether she was happy.

And instead of being there he was stuck on this damned ship, with a crew that saw fit to remind him of what a mess he'd made of it all.

_Island of Happiness_. What a joke.

**ooo**

It was dark when the ship finally docked on the island and Vaughn stumbled off the gangway, cursing the late hour and the darkness. He'd have to go to the inn and wait until tomorrow to see her. After all, he couldn't just drop by the ranch like he used to when she would smile to find him on her doorstep and invite him in for a tall glass of milk. She would not smile for him anymore.

Vaughn's boots sank into the sand as he made his way along the beach, his travel bag slung over his shoulder. The breeze wafted in from the island and carried the scents of fish and noodles and fresh bread. Must be coming from the diner. His stomach rumbled. The island had always had its charms, at least once the ranch had drawn people to it. Chelsea had a knack for that. People flocked to her like scraps of iron to a magnet.

As the transport ship chugged away, Vaughn heaved a sigh and let the lull of the rising tide wash over his senses. The rolling of the waves eased his turbid thoughts. The air was cool and sweet. These things, at least, remained the same. All the world could fall away yet the song of the sea would never change.

And yet everything else had. The very last time he'd seen her had been on the beach. She had come to see him off...

**ooo**

"I'll miss you," she said.

"I'll call."

She threw her arms around his neck and he hugged her tightly as the late autumn wind whipped around them. It was so warm in her arms. He drew back to kiss her, long and lingering, as if he could kiss her worries away. But this job... it was the right thing to do– for both of them.

He grabbed for his hat as a gust of wind threatened to blow his Stetson off his head. Chelsea laughed and he reached out once more to push back that red kerchief and run his fingers through her hair.

"You always do that," she said, still smiling as she looked up at him. He wanted her to always be smiling, to always be happy as she was now. If only he could...

"I like your hair. It's... silky."

The bandana had slipped down around her neck and she undid the knot and shook her hair free of it. "Here," she said, leaning in to tie it around his neck. "A keepsake."

He pulled her against him once more, and the whisper against his ear made his heart surge. "I love you."

He squeezed her fiercely. "Love you too."

When he stepped back and then headed to dock where the transport was just pulling in, he didn't say goodbye. He only waved.

**ooo**

Eyes fixed on his feet as he walked, he was brought back to the present with a jolt as he heard his name.

"Vaughn?"

His heart leaped into his throat. His head shot up. Chelsea...

Her fishing rod fell from her hands as she rose and stared at him as if he were an apparition. "Chelsea..." Her hair was loose and danced in the breeze. In the moonlight she was as pale as the white sand of the beach. "I– I didn't expect to see you."

"You– _You_ didn't expect to see _me_?" A sharp sort of laugh darted from her lips. He thought she might be trembling.

"That's not what I–"

"What are you doing here?"

Sweat beaded his brow in the cool evening air. "I–" He cleared his throat. "I came to see you."

She opened her mouth to say something, stopped, and tried again. But nothing came.

"How are you doing?" he asked. His palms were slick with sweat. This wasn't quite how he'd envisioned this going.

Her brow was crinkled. "I'm... fine."

"I heard there'd been trouble getting milk from the island. I was... worried. I thought the ranch might be in trouble or that you..."

"No it's–" She shook her head. "I started experimenting with secondary products– cheese, yogurt, that sort of thing."

"Oh."

For a moment neither of them spoke and simply stood there in a silence so awkward that Vaughn could feel the sweat dripping down his neck. Dammit. This wasn't how it had been supposed to go.

"So you don't need to worry," she said finally, not meeting his eyes. "The ranch is fine."

"What about you?"

"I already told you. I'm fine." But she didn't meet his eyes and his heart ached. This was his fault. He was every bit as bad as Dan. He'd run off just the same. Damn. "You could've just called."

"I needed to see you. Chelsea–"

"Don't you have work to do?" she said, crossing her arms and turning to look out at the rolling waves.

"I quit."

She spun on her heel, eyes wide. "What?"

"I needed to come here. So I quit."

"But... but how will you..."

"I'll manage. That's not important now. Look," he began slowly, "I'm not very good at this but... I like my life better when you're a part of it. The steady job, the income, it doesn't mean all that much if you're not part of the deal."

"Vaughn..."

"If you've already found someone else I understand but–"

"What? It's only been– What do you take me for anyway?" she said, hands on her hips.

He shook his head. "You could have any man on this island."

"That's ridiculous. And even if it weren't," she added before he could protest, "you were the only one I wanted."

"'Were.'" Damn damn damn.

"You broke up with me over the phone," she whispered, rubbing her bare arms, eyes fixed on some distant point over his shoulder.

"I know. I'm sorry. I thought I was doing the right thing– for both of us." He shoved his hands into his pockets and stared down at his boots, kicking at the sand as he spoke. "I told you about how it was when I grew up. Dan and Emily.... Money was what always started arguments. There was never enough of it and they just..."

"We don't have to be like that. We can talk about things. I know you don't like veggies much, but I like growing crops. And you know what? It turns out I'm good at it too. But I'm willing to meet you halfway if you can do that." He looked up and their eyes locked. "But I need to know you're not going to run whenever we hit a rough patch."

"I'm not going anywhere," he said, taking a step closer. Her arms were crossed still, her lips thinned to a line. "And I'll find a way to be on the island– so I won't be away all the time. I'll figure something out. Just give me another shot."

"Vaughn..." Her voice was as tremulous as it had been the last time they'd spoken.

"We were happy for a while there, weren't we?"

"We were," she breathed.

He took another step closer. She started. Like a frightened animal, he thought. Easy does it. "I'm sorry," he said with all the gentleness he could muster.

In the moonlight, the tears on her cheeks were like pearls.

He took another step, bridging the distance between them, and pulling her into his arms. She didn't resist, but neither did she relax in his embrace. Her breath was hot against his neck, her tears cool against his skin.

And for once in his life he knew exactly what to say. He began to hum.

"What are you doing?" she whispered.

"Humming. I hear it works almost as well on people as it does on snails."

Her laughter rippled through him. After a moment, her arms encircled him and relief and euphoria raced through his veins, leaving him heady and clinging to her like a castaway to his life preserver.

"You're really here to stay?" she asked, her words muffled against his neck.

"Yeah. I'm not going anywhere." He pulled her tightly against him. "I'll do it right this time."

She drew back to look at him. Her fingers traced over his lips. "You're smiling," she said. "I love it when you smile."

"Good, cuz you're about the only person who can get me to."

"Don't run away again."

He nodded. "I'm staying put. Through thick and thin. All right?"

"All right."

It wasn't until she leaned close and pressed her lips to his that he felt he was forgiven. The relief and joy that swept through him were like what he'd felt at the safe delivery of a foal after a troubled birth. He felt much like that foal, taking his first shaky steps into the world, blinking into the light with eyes that were seeing for the first time. He could never explain it to her, so instead he hugged her fiercely.

"Let's head home," she whispered. "I'll get you a cup of hot milk and we can talk."

"We've got some catching up to do, huh? I want to hear what you've been doing with the ranch."

"I'll give you a tour tomorrow. I made a few improvements. And you need to tell me what happened with your job."

"There's not much to tell."

"I want to hear it anyway."

"All right." He picked up his bag, slung it over his shoulder and then offered her his arm. She took it.

As they walked, she squeezed his arm. "Welcome home, Vaughn."


	5. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

Vaughn eyed the two cups on the coffee table, one half full the other quite empty. Seated on the couch with her, he had sipped his hot milk while Chelsea had talked about the ranch– her spring crops, her animals, and her plans for the year. Her hot cocoa had probably been quite cool when she had stopped to drink it; she always got carried away when she talked about the ranch. Chelsea might have been born in the city, but she'd been made to be out here.

He wasn't entirely sure when it had happened, but at some point as he had talked about his work these past months, she had drawn closer to him and he had wound his arms around her. And at some point after that she had dozed off in his arms, leaning back against him.

As she shifted against him, a few strands of her russet hair tumbled into her face and he had to resist the urge to brush them away for fear of waking her; she worked long days and needed her rest. He'd been so foolish to leave as he had when he could have been helping her all this time, working somewhere he wanted to be with someone he wanted to be with.

Chelsea stirred. Her eyes flitted open and she glanced up at him. "Still here?" she murmured.

"Yup. I'm not going anywhere," he said, stroking her hair.

"Good," she whispered before her eyes fell closed and she was sound asleep again.

He still wasn't quite sure what he'd done to win her over, but he was determined to get it right this time. Maybe those damned nosy sailors had had it right after all; maybe this was the island of happiness. As long as she was here, it would be for him anyway.

Leaning back, Vaughn tugged his Stetson down over his eyes. As he drifted off to sleep, he wondered if Chen's shop stocked blue feathers.

**The End**


End file.
